The Wonnacotts’ September: Visiting family, Spanish class, and introducing Felicity to people

Dear family,

I can’t believe a month has already passed. Which is not to say that this past month has gone by quickly, but rather that it’s been a remarkably unique month. I’d say time has probably moved a little differently this month than during any other month of my life, which is perhaps a side effect of time progressing in 2 hours increments around the clock.

You may also be thinking that August 30th to October 11th is going to feel unlike your traditional month regardless of how you spent it. Which is a good cue for my abashed acknowledgment that this letter is quite late. I don’t even really have an excuse, because even though I have a new baby, she’s really not so disruptive that I couldn’t have written this earlier.

While last month’s letter focused solely on Felicity’s exciting entrance despite her existence taking up a comparatively small portion of the two months the letter covered, this month’s letter likely can’t do justice to the proportion of September that she has dominated. As is her right. One effect of the magnitude of her presence is that there is not a single interesting photo in my camera roll from this month that does not focus on her.

So as a result, the photos in this letter may not relate precisely to their surrounding paragraphs, but they will break up. the monotony of said paragraphs. I trust you not to get too confused.

The main events of September were the visits of both my parents and Luke’s mother. Since Felicity came two weeks early, Luke and I had two weeks to spend with Felicity by ourselves before my parents came to stay with us.

This was probably a blessing, though it was a potential circumstance I feared before it came about. I was worried that Luke and I would have no idea what to do or be absolute zombies.

In reality, I feel that the two weeks on our own gave us the chance to feel like the experts on our baby and to assure us that we’re perfectly capable of taking care of a baby.

Because it’s really not that hard. At least, if she’s your only kid and one of you doesn’t have to work and she doesn’t have any digestion/health/latching problems. It’s not that hard. Tiring and scary sometimes. But not too hard.

At least not yet and not with Felicity.

Even though we both feel that we could have survived the remainder of our first month of parenthood without the previous generation watching over us as we did so, we are nonetheless highly grateful that they were there with us. I adore my parents, and having them around always makes me happier. Not to mention, there’s something highly comforting about hearing the reminiscences of people who obviously figured out how to do what you’re doing a long time ago as they remember a time when all of this was new to them too.

Having Marianne stay with us was similarly wonderful. I remember being a little nervous about having her come to stay with us, mostly because I’m a pretty boring person, and spending eight hours a day alone with me for a week might seem a little monotonous to somebody as productive and adventurous as I consider Marianne to be.

I remember bringing up this sentiment with Luke, as well as his helpful reply, “Yeah…I don’t think I’ve ever spent eight straight hours all alone with my mom.” Which, come to think of it, I don’t know that I have either. But maybe she can jog my memory.

Of course, I still haven’t really spent eight straight hours alone with my mother-in-law. Because adults with phones never spend that much time alone with anybody. But really more because Marianne would very kindly insist that I take naps while she sat or went on a walk with Felicity.

Luke and I have pointed out to one another that when things really get tricky is when you’re having a second baby. Or when your baby starts thinking and moving. Both of these things are a little more complicated than our current situation. Perhaps when the second baby rolls around, a parental visit will be more essential than it is simply very nice.

I don’t have a picture from the day Felicity was blessed, but I feel it’s important to share that the event did occur in September on the Sunday my parents were in town.

This blessing was perhaps the most nerve-wracking experience of Felicity’s first six weeks. I’m not sure exactly what part of the ritual made me so nervous. Maybe it was because Luke had never performed a baby blessing before and I was scared he’d say something wrong. Or because we had chosen to have the blessing during the weekend when my parents were in town and not Luke’s parents, which I felt a little guilty about. And then there’s the subject of comparison. Felicity was blessed in her third week of life—a side effect of my parents being in town that week. They had planned to be here the week of her birth, but since she came early, the dates of their visit could conceivably coincide with her blessing.

And Dad’s stories about babies being dropped during their blessings and fathers swearing into microphones probably did not ease my tension, even if they did make me laugh. When I asked Luke whether he would drop our baby during her blessing he said something along the lines of, “How would I know? I certainly won’t try to.” A similarly unhelpful declaration, if an honest one.

When I asked my in-laws whether they would be offended if we chose to bless Felicity while only my parents were in town, Keith replied, “Well, she is your parents’ first grandchild, which is pretty special. She’s just number five for us, so not too exciting.”

Which, considering that I was nervous of offending him and Marianne, was actually quite a kind thing to say, despite it sounding like one of those things you hope a grandparent doesn’t say to a child when they’re around ages three and up.

There are plenty of things like that, though. I’ve often had occasion to wonder when we’re going to stop saying whatever we want to our children. “You’re so fat,” and, “Yeah, I’d be pretty sad too if I sucked at eating¹,” for a few. Then there was also my dad’s frequent contribution, which is, “Hey, keep it down, would ya?” when Felicity has started crying.

Felicity out in the World

As we’ve had the pleasure of introducing Felicity to many of our family and friends, we’ve frequently received questions regarding what her nickname ought to be.

I find this to be a fascinating part of our culture: that there must be a nickname for any name over one syllable. I acknowledge that Felicity is a long name, as well as one that small cousins and neighbors have needed some practice and instruction to say correctly. But I really feel no need to pre-conceive a nickname for Felicity. I have, however, told family members that they’re welcome to call her by nicknames that they deem appropriate (though Luke has a few that he dislikes…specifically all of the nicknames recommended by the internet).

I won’t share the most common nicknames for Felicity here so as not to taint your creativity. Dan Farnsworth has contributed the most exciting nickname so far: Felly G. I’m not sure I’ll ever use it, but I bet she’ll enjoy hearing it from her first cousin twice removed.

I never know what to say when people say my baby is beautiful. Thank you? But she’s also, like, a person, and I really had no conscious input into how she currently looks or acts. Plus she’s a baby, so who actually cares what she looks like. Unlike later in her life, her current appearance won’t get her any more friends or more tips at the restaurant.

It reminds me of when I was in middle school and my best friend came over to my house for the first time. “I love your house, Sophie. It’s so nice,” she said.

”Isn’t it? I like it,” I replied, feeling like this response made me a companion in her admiration of somebody else’s architectural competence and perhaps my mother’s ability to decorate.

Mom, who happened to be in the room with us, laughed at my response and said pointedly, “Thank you, Elise.”

This is when I learned that, even when someone compliments a thing I have absolutely no control over but am associated with, the proper response is, “Thank you.”

I’m still torn on what to say about compliments to Felicity, though. Half the time I thank the complimenter, while the other half I say, “Isn’t she? We like her,” and hear Mom’s laughter echoing at me through the years.

New Habits

Similar to the time right after we got married, Luke and I have been trying to get into some good habits with the birth of Felicity.

For one, we’ve started taking advantage of local family members to watch Felicity so we can go to the temple about once every week. Sarah Ann Huber, my second cousin on my Dad’s side (the only side on which I know my second cousins), has been our recent temple-going enabler, though we have many people who frequently offer to watch her for us.

The first time I went to the temple after she was born, I ran into an acquaintance there. The last time she had seen me had been maybe three weeks previously and I had been about nine months pregnant. When I told her I’d had my baby, she looked a little startled and asked, “Oh, do you have someone watching her?”

She probably was more startled by the fact that my life had changed so drastically since I last saw her and she had no real gauge for it. It was probably just the first question that popped into her mind.

But this question has since prompted a paranoia that people will see me without my newborn baby and just assume I’ve propped her in front of the tv at home before going out for a few hours. So I have a slightly ridiculous habit now of making sure people know that I do in fact have a babysitter for my less than two month old baby every time I go out. Sometimes I even list their credentials.

“Yeah, my sister and her wife are watching her. They’re both nurses. And excellent aunts. So we’re lucky to have them.”

As if anyone really cares.

But I’ve quickly come to the realization that people do care when it comes to babies. Or at least, they care enough to ask, when in other social situations you would mostly ignore each other. Strangers always ask how old she is, how she’s sleeping, how I’m sleeping, if she eats well.

So many questions, and I feel bad because the conversation feels so one sided. Because none of them are the kind of questions that I can follow up with, “and you?”

But having such a young baby around seems to permit little silences where everyone in the party just…looks at the baby. And that’s okay with me.

It makes me happy to have such an easy method of beginning pleasant conversation with strangers.

This month, I also started volunteering as a hospice visitor at Hannah’s assisted living facility. I was trained as a hospice volunteer while pregnant, but didn’t really have the chance to do much visiting before Felicity was born. Fortunately, she is the perfect way to make visiting a hospice patient a lot less awkward and a lot more meaningful and sweet. At least so far.

We’ve gone visiting once a week for the past three weeks, and it’s been a joy to spend time with these lovely people, hear their stories, and share a little bit of Felicity with them.

Just about the only thing I do without Felicity these days is the free Spanish class that I attend on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. They’re put on by a local community center and exactly the thing I’ve needed to motivate me to actually learn Spanish (something I’ve wanted to do for a few years now).

I really enjoy going to this class. The teachers and students are very pleasant, the language is fun and interesting, and the routine of getting out of the house by myself twice a week is good for my motivation and sense of independence.

The only issue is that I think it’s pretty safe to say that I take this class more seriously than absolutely everyone else in it—including the teachers.

I am the only person at all involved in that class with perfect 100% attendance. I’m not sure anyone else even comes close. And it’s only been three or four weeks.

I can’t say I blame anyone else. After all, this class is really my only consistent commitment, whereas most other people have been at work or school all day. But it’s also a decent sacrifice for me and Luke, considering it takes away two of our evenings together each week.

Sometimes it’s a little frustrating when we’re going over the difference between “ser” and “estar” for the third time because I’m the only present person who was there for the first two times, but I’m still very grateful for the class. If I were paying, maybe I’d have more right to complain.

As for Luke, fatherhood seems to have brought out new habits for him as well. For one, he’s bought, like, four new guns since Felicity was born. I don’t know if this is a sign of me losing control over his gun-purchasing or more just a side effect of deer season being upon us, but there has definitely been some kind of change that I’ve been pushing back against less and less as time goes on.

He has also begun playing more video games with friends, including Hannah.

I think that this hobby made itself manifest starting when my parents were in town to help take care of Felicity. This makes sense, since this was around week three of Luke’s paternity leave, which is the longest amount of time he has spent not working for quite some time.

Having Felicity hasn’t changed our social lives too much, but moving from our married student ward to our family ward has. For one thing, one week in the new ward marked the end of our status as leeches who couldn’t cook any of our own meals. For another, I think the switch has made spending evenings with others a little less intuitive, and so Luke consequently has more free time in the evenings to sit around doing nothing, which he doesn’t love.

So instead, he’s enhancing his relationships with his friends who play Destiny 2, and I’m glad he can do that.

Maybe it’ll have to be less of a habit when we have more kids, but that’s probably true of many things.

And finally, I’d like to announce that I got myself a job!

I was looking for jobs over the summer while I was in that awkward in-between stage of having finished teaching during the school year and not yet having a baby. I had a few promising leads, but none of them ended up going anywhere.

Until about three weeks ago.

When Felicity was five weeks old, someone I had interviewed with during the summer reached out about another opportunity for part-time, remote, asynchronous work.

I wasn’t totally sure I even wanted a job anymore, as I’d already gotten through the three-month slog of unemployment and finally made my way to stay-at-home motherhood. I’d been willing to work while caring for a baby before, assuming it got me something to do while sitting at home pregnant.

But I interviewed and got a job offer, and it sounded like a fun, chill job. And a little extra money and responsibility sounded good.

So that’s how I became the customer service team for a small e-shop called Chuck Rack!

I pretty much just answer emails, facilitate returns, and generally support the owners of this very small company. I think it’s a lot of fun, and I feel very comfortable in it already.

And apparently the product is quite good, at least according to customer reviews. I’ve spent very little time with the product itself as Luke and I own two sedans and no bikes or skis, but I’m pretty impressed that I have such a good impression of the product solely from comments made by customers who are experiencing some difficulty. It could be because they’re largely from Utah and therefore terrified of coming off as unpleasant. But it seems to be a high quality product.

So if you’re looking for a bike rack or a ski bucket for the back of your car…go with Chuck Rack. They’re the chuckiest².

Hopefully you’re not all tired of Felicity yet. Please understand that she is currently my entire life, though I do my best to have things to talk about besides her, for your sanity and possibly my own.

Let me know if you ever want a little baby visitor. We can probably make it happen.

Love,

Sophie et al

1. This is a somewhat unfair implication, as Felicity has generally been a very good eater. She never had trouble latching, at least. But sometimes she’s so restless and wiggly while eating that she can’t continue, at which points she wails at the top of her very small lungs until I can get her to remember that the only thing keeping her from eating is herself. ↩︎
2. Not an actual slogan for Chuck Rack. ↩︎